The Plan
by Kraytkiller
Summary: Harry has a plan to end it all, But will he succeed? Will he finally end the war, after 8 years of fighting? No pairings. No slash.


Harry was excited

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but your FACE.

A/N: So this is something I randomly thought up yesterday which when I wrote it, turned out pretty good. I didn't go back and fix most of the errors, and some shit is wrong because of Microsoft words Auto-Correction thing, but…whatever.

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Harry was excited.

He wasn't normally ever excited, not anymore. Now at age 25 the war that had been going on ever since he was 17 had taken its toll on his body and mind. Scars now littering his muscled form, even more than before, not to mention the emotional scars on his mind.

But all that didn't matter now. All that mattered was _The Plan. The Plan. _Those words echoed through his head over and over, like they had been the past days…months…maybe even years.

He'd been working on this plan for 3 years, ever since he was 22, ever since everything he loved and possessed was taken away from him. All his friends, his mentors, his brothers and sisters in arms, stripped away by the power or corruption of Lord Voldemort.

But again, none of that mattered now, he thought as he used his now exceptional Occlumency skills to clear his mind. All that mattered was The Plan.

Leaving his Fidelus-Protected home to step out on the beaches right outside his door, he quickly began step one of The Plan, the arrival.

With a crack he appeared, in now standard battle grab, a black war wizard coat that looked like a simple muggle leather coat so they could blend in without looking completely unnatural in normal day London.

He had already left behind things to lure Voldemort to the same destination as he, Soviet Russia, things like notes…purposefully tripping proximity alarm wards protecting Voldemorts valuable items he had attained over time during the war.

Killing his officers. That had probably been the most fun, not to mention the most anger-inducing thing he could have done at all.

He knew Voldemort would come along, or if he brought anyone with him at all it wouldn't be much that he couldn't handle. Voldemort he knew had been getting arrogant in his temporary victory, thinking the war was over for good and his victory secure with only Harry Potter fighting for the light.

It didn't matter if he was alone, however. He'd take care of it himself.

Quickly grabbing the items inside the house he apparated into, he quickly donned his Gas Mask and Radiation suit, while muttering "I put on my Gas mask and radiation suit" to himself, in order to keep mental track of what he needed to do next.

Once he was finished he quickly strode outside to the high radiation zones of Soviet Russia. Glancing around to check that it was safe before quickly jogging through the fields that surrounded the house he had used to store his equipment in. He knew he had a mile straight run ahead of him, plenty enough time for Voldemort to appear.

Glancing around to pass the time and hopefully amuse himself while he spent his energy running he spotted a couple cats, one black and one white and for some reason exceptionally extended by atleast a foot length wise at the waist, stalking a bronze colored duck with a piece of fuzz on his head, looking like an afro.

Moving on he discovered he was about halfway there and was about to continue along when he was nearly ran over by a massive van, which actually seemed to have been the plan of the driver all along.

Quickly dropping to the ground and performing a quick barrel roll to get out of the way he was only able to catch a glimpse of chipped away paint exposing the silver underneath, and the decayed painted logo with some words missing, the only letters he could make before he had to dodge again was P TY V N.

Picking himself off the ground he saw the driver climbing out of the vehicle, apparently muggle if the gun in his hand was any indication. He was a large white male, seemingly physically fit and protected by a Kevlar vest. He'd encountered muggles here before, people looking for innocent people to kill and loot, not that there were many purely defenseless people around here anymore.

The man approached me, a humongous grin on his face displaying perfectly white teeth, his eyes opened to the max. He seemed extremely excited to have actually caught anyone, though I cant blame him. He aimed the pistol at me but I was already too close, quickly disarming him I yanked the weapon out of his hands myself and shot him three times in the face, exploding his head like a lemon.

It had become obvious during the war he had needed to learn some skills besides wand-only magic.

Deciding to simply leave the corpse there to get devoured by wild animals he resumed his run to the destination.

_**Voldemort's POV **_

Voldemort was angry, though that was nothing new.

Harry Potter, being the annoying disgusting ant he had been ever since birth had once again complicated things, leaving a taunting note telling him to apparate at some seemingly random cords in Soviet Russia.

Soviet. Fucking. Russia.

Who the fuck went there anymore, anyways? He had no idea, but that wasn't the worst of it. No, Potter not only insulted his pride with the note but also stole several priceless dark artifacts and weapons he could have used to further the war, not that there was much to further anyways.

And to top it all off, he had killed his most prized officers ever since Malfoy and Bellatrix had met there extremely unfortunate end to rebel light wizards, Gadison and Morg. Losing those two had set back his ultimate victory by _atleast_ weeks.

But that didn't matter anymore, he _would _apparate to those cords Potter had left in the note and finish him by himself, once and for all.

_'Maybe I should take some Death Eaters…just five maybe…no, I don't need any to kill that annoyance, my power should be enough.' _He mused to himself.

Telling his guards he was leaving and to let no one into the throne room for any reason he quickly strode to the apparition zone of the fortress, Death Eaters quickly scrambling out of his way, most looking up to him at confusion. It wasn't every day their dark lord stepped outside for no reason, after all.

Wrapping his cloak around him tight he span on the spot and with a loud crack, appeared exactly on the spot the coordinates specified, a testament to his apparition skills.

Immediately he noticed a strong smell of decay, and complete darkness. _IT'S A TRAP! _His mind screamed at him, but he quickly discarded that thought, seeing no spells coming his way. Casting a total illumination spell, Desu, he took his first look around.

Broken crates and boxes cluttered the area around him, some with holes in them, obviously from rats. Near the back he spotted a door, so naturally, he approached it.

Kicking open the door, causing it to hit the other wall and nearly fall off his hinges, Voldemort strode in in all his dark glory.

Standing in the middle of the room was Potter himself, seemingly defenseless.

"So Potter, finally decided its time to stop running and hiding, and face your death like a '_true gryffindor'_?" Voldemort mocked.

"Yes actually, I've debated this for a long time, and I've finally decided what I want… I want you to kill me." Harry said, a look of pure seriousness on him face.

Voldemort was flabbergasted at this, he had expected a battle ready Harry Potter here ready for some ridiculous 'Epic battle' or something, not the weary resigned man asking for death that was in front of him. He liked this way better though, no risk at all to him.  
_'Maybe Potter has finally noticed how futile it is to try and fight my amazing power..' _he half-joked half gloated to himself, before banishing the thought. He would need to be careful, search Potters words for any indication he was planning something.

"Is that so, Potter? Why the sudden change after eight years of fighting?" Voldemort questioned, a seemingly inquisitive look on his snake like face.

"You've taken everything from me, Voldemort. Why would I keep fighting if there's nothing to win for?" Harry asked, still appearing dead serious. "All I ask is that you make it quick, a simple Avada Kedavra to the chest, please."

"Well I'd prefer to torture you but…yes… a simple Avada will do the job nicely… end you like you ended me 24 years ago, Potter. No Lily around to save you with 'Love' this time, Potter" Voldemort said, smiling cruelly. "Good bye, Harry Potter, may you rot in hell." And with that and a cry of Avada Kedavra a sickly green light flew through the air towards Harry, hitting him squarely in the chest…

And rebounding back straight into Voldemort.

"AAAAAGGHHHHHH" Voldemort screamed, somehow still alive yet obviously dying. "What did you do?!" he demanded, needing to know what sort of power had caused his demise.

"You fool, Voldemort. Haven't you heard the myth?" Harry asked, breathless from laughing.

"What myth?!" Voldemort once again demanded, obviously confused.

"The Myth is… Soviet Russia, Avada Kills YOU!" Harry shouted right in Voldemorts face as he died, before apparating away to begin his new life of peace.

After clearing up all the Death Eaters and shit anyways.


End file.
